I like the weight of her over me. #3
“What’s off limits?” she asks, moving her thumb and forefinger to my other pec, pinching and rolling the other nipple. “On your body, is there anything I can’t have?”
I’m not sure I understand her question, but somehow I know the answer. “Everything is yours.”
Thrusting against me in torturously slow, gentle movements, Delane grips my shoulders and stares into my eyes as she does.
This is what it would be like if we were having sex and she was on top.
She’d grab me this way and ride me slowly, moving her hips to find the perfect friction inside her.
And I’d just lie here, staring up at my beautiful girl in amazement. Except, she’d be naked .
“Delane,” I say her name with forced huskiness because every ounce of strength inside me ceases to exist with her straddling my locked cock.
I’m putty for her; I’m a fluid, molten, liquid mess.
She could drink me, spit me out, slap me, destroy me–she could wreck me, and I’d love her harder.
Because I’m an actual fucking fool for her.
With my heart shuddering beneath my ribs, I ask for what I want. “I want to see you naked.”
Without a word, she slides off my lap, her feet hitting the rug with a thunk. She’s engulfed in a shadowy part of my room, but when the bed dips, and she’s positioned between my spread legs, I can see her.
Legs crossed, her hands feed through the hair on my calves as she massages me tenderly, giving me a moment to take her in.
Naked Delane is more than I have ever fantasized about. I knew she’d be beautiful, but I didn’t expect the sight to change me.
Her breasts are full and round, her areolas the color of peanut butter, tightening into a nubbed peak the color of milk chocolate. With a single carved line of definition running down her belly, my eyes fall to the split of her legs, where she’s completely bare.
“Have you made it to third before?” she asks, her tone doing nothing for my aching balls and struggling cock.
He wants to rage out of the cage and grow hard, long and mean and bury himself into her soft center, but I’m relieved that he can’t.
Right now, I’m so drunk off naked Delane that I doubt I could even perform.
My brain spins out a little as she repeats herself. “Have you made it to third?”
I shake my head against the pillows. “When I said I’ve really not done much more than make out with my girlfriends, I wasn't exaggerating.”
She brings her small hands to her breasts, which fill her palms and then some. They’d be a perfect fit for my hands, and my mouth waters at the thought.
“Before I have my way with you,” she says with a seductive grin, “come here.” She pats the bed between my legs, so I sit up and match her position, legs crossed. Our knees grind together, and her skin is so warm my thighs spasm from the connection.
She takes my hand, brings it to her breast, and repeats with the other. “I know I’ve seen your breasts before,” I say, trying to gather my thoughts, but with both of her breasts filling my hands, it’s hard to think. “But this feels different.”
She smiles, diffusing any discomfort lingering between us. “How?”
I continue kneading her breasts, watching how her eyes grow hooded. “I don’t know,” I mumble, forcing my eyes to stay on hers. A moment later, she grabs me by the wrist, stopping me.
“Now,” she says, slowly lowering my hand so my fingertips skate down her bare belly. “You’ve watched a ton of porn, I’m assuming.”
“You’d be assuming correctly,” I say without embarrassment because even a shy virgin needs to jerk off.
“So you know that women can orgasm vaginally with their g-spot or through their clit.” My fingers reach her groin, warm and smooth. Pausing, she holds my hand just an inch above the dark slit of her pussy.
“Yes,” I croak, my pulse so loud I have the strongest urge to shake my head like a drunk cartoon character.
“You think you can make me cum? By touching me?” she asks.
Before I can answer, she guides my hand between her legs, the tips of my fingers sliding between her soft, swollen lips.
She’s wet, and I don’t know what’s normal, but she’s very wet.
I can hear her arousal around us as I explore her pussy slowly.
“I can, yes,” I answer with surprising confidence. But if there’s one reason I’m here on this Earth, I swear it’s to please this woman.
“Do it then.” She lets go of her guiding grip, placing her palms on the mattress behind her. Swinging her feet out, she plants them flat on the mattress too. “However you want.”
On display for me, I stare at the dark divide of her wet pussy, then my gaze crawls along her tight core, up to her perfect little tits. I want things I had no idea I’d want.
I want to suck on her nipples and grind my hips against hers; I want to feel those thighs around my ears as I bury my tongue inside her.
I reach out, resting my hand on her groin as my thumb slowly strokes her swollen clit.
“Ahh,” she keens, tipping her head back into the moonlight streaming through. “That’s good, like that.”
“Do you cum this way?” I ask her, aware that clit orgasms are more reliable than g-spot orgasms (thanks, porn).
Bringing her gaze to mine, she’s wearing a flush on her I haven’t seen before.
Looking a little lost, she smiles crookedly at me.
“When I touch myself, yes, this is how I make myself cum.” Tucking her chin to her chest, she then watches me stroke and tease her clit, which seems to be blooming into a swollen, hardened little nub the more I touch.
It’s quite possibly the hottest thing ever.
“Your thumb feels so much better than my fingers,” she whimpers, and I stand corrected; that is possibly the hottest thing ever–knowing I’m making her feel good. She makes me feel good all the time–returning the favor makes me feel so good.
So fucking good.
“How do I feel?” she asks, her tone all smoke and rasp, so unlike the “how may I help you today” I’m used to hearing from her at work. This is a private tone she only uses when fully aroused and on the cusp of orgasm… and I get to hear it.
“Good,” I say, staring at my thumb glistening in her juices as I swipe up and down, over and over, watching her grow wetter and wetter.
“Your…” I trail off because saying the word pussy is so foreign, but being a grown man who can’t say it is toeing into territory I don’t want to belong to.
“Your pussy is so perfect. The shape. Your lips, your clit, everything is… just fucking perfect.”
Lifting her head, she finds my eyes, and through the fading light, we stare at one another. “You think so?” she whispers.
I stroke her again, then move the pad of my thumb on her bud in small, slow circles. Her head falls back as she mewls in pleasure. “ Ohmygod Miller .”
“You like this?” I croak, continuing with the wet, tight circles.
My thumb glides easily through her arousal, and when I glance between my legs, I see she’s not the only one.
A thick strand of precum stretches between the opening of my cage and the bed, pooling into the fabric where it’s already dark.
“Yes,” she pants as I move my thumb a little faster, loving how her body flexes and writhes beneath just one of my fingers. She’s so responsive, almost as if this is her first time being discovered this way, too.
But that’s stupid because Delane has been with guys.
Of course, she has. Hell, I know she was with that karate instructor at one point.
I’m sure she enjoys herself to the max like this no matter who she is with because she’s one of those women who are in touch with their body and sexuality and aren’t ashamed or embarrassed to enjoy it.
I like that about her. I like everything about her, though, so I suppose that’s not surprising.
Arching her back, she moves her hips on the bed, inching closer to me. Her bare feet connect with my hips, and the scene of her spread bare for me, letting me see every part of her naked and up close this way–it’s too much.
“Laney,” I pant, though why am I panting? I’m so fucking worked up right now. Looking down, I see my chest is glazed in sweat, and when I run a hand through my hair, it’s damp.
Slowly she draws her head up and blinks at me. She takes her time exploring my body, eyeing every curve and cut of my chiseled chest and core. Looking at my caged cock, her tongue darts across her bottom lip before she gives me a toothy grin.
“You feeling good?” She reaches out and strokes my thigh with her nails and that does nothing for the cause.
I nod. “Yeah,” my voice is raspy and weak because, despite the fact I’ve not been touched, and I’m caged, I’m pretty sure Delane can make me cum just from existing this close to me.
Giving me a moment of unexpected respite, she slides off the bed and grabs her bag, the metal zipper whirring as she slides it open. Digging around, she looks up at me, an amber curl falling across her face. “Everything is mine?”
I nod and close my mouth, so drool doesn’t drip down my chin. She produces a thin black wand, and I don’t know what her plan is; all I know is her face holds more excitement than ever, and I’d do anything to keep that going.
With it, she brings a bottle of lube and a towel to the bed. She catches me eyeing the bath towel and says, “you’ll learn– sex and acts of sex are really, really messy.”
Feeling like with her, I can say anything, I grin. “You do know I jerk off all the time, right? I’m aware of the mess.” She bites into her bottom lip at that comment. “But I have towels. You didn’t have to bring one.”
She grins. “Now I know for next time.”
Climbing back onto the bed, she directs me onto my back. Taking a spot between my legs, she drapes her calves over my thighs, clicking open the lube. Two squirts into her palm, and she's stroking the black wand, slowly coating it.
“Is that… for you?” I ask, and when she lets out a small, sweet laugh, my ass clenches.
“No, it’s for you .”